


Charcoal

by allisondraste



Series: Faded Moments [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, It wouldn't be Solavellan Hell without a dash of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15731106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisondraste/pseuds/allisondraste
Summary: From a lovely tumblr prompt: How close did Niamh get to figuring out what was really going on with Solas during the main game events? Any scenes where he said just a little too much and had to backtrack and "I saw it in the Fade" didn't quite cut it for her?Heartbroken Solas is confronted an equally heartbroken Lavellan about some of the things that simply do not add up.  It is hard on them both.





	Charcoal

The relationship was a selfish endeavor that he should not have encouraged or pursued.  At least, that was the comfort Solas offered himself in his decision to distance himself from the inquisitor.  He furiously scrawled lines across blank parchment, charcoal dust covering his hands as he worked.  Lines became shapes and shapes became a form, her form, with all its beautiful values and intricacies, the detail of the her freckles, the shimmer of light reflecting from her eyes.  As he brushed away the excess charcoal, he saw her as she had appeared when he told her she was important to him, eyes intently locked on his own. **  
**

He was not yet certain which was worse:  the lack of eye contact or the nauseating sensation he experienced when her eyes did happen upon his, still filled with the same anger and hurt they held that night in Crestwood.  Try as he may to distract himself, he could not keep his thoughts occupied enough so that they would not wander to her.  The image of her tear-stained face contorted by betrayal was emblazoned on his mind like Mythal’s marks that remained upon her forehead.  

_“She feels her face, marked, marred without malice. She didn’t know. She thinks it’s why you walked away.”_

Cole’s words that rang in his ears were like a knife twisting more deeply into his chest.  She had every right to be angry with him. She deserved a truth that he could not give her.  Perhaps if he had told her that he was Fen’Harel, she would have understood and even welcomed his decision.  An entanglement with the villain of tales told to strike fear into the hearts of her people, tales she knew by heart, was likely not what she had imagined when she first kissed him in the Fade.

Yet he could not bring himself to tell her, as part of him desperately did not want her to know. It was the part of him that wanted him to abandon his plan for restoration of his people.  It was the part of him that still trembled at the memory of her touch.  Telling her meant risking her rejection of him, a reality he was not yet prepared to face.  The high level of emotion and tension between them was better than nothing at all.

“Solas,” a familiar and commanding voice jolted him from his rumination. Her voice.

He shuffled his drawing under some other sketches that he would not be as embarrassed for her to see.  He stood to face her, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his jaw clenched in an attempt to appear aloof, a stance at which he had previously been very adept.  She would see through it.  She always did.

“Inquisitor.” he stated coldly, watching her frown from the formality.  The title was as bitter on his tongue as tea and he detested it equally as much.  It brought him no joy to deepen her wounds, but it was necessary.  Her name was an intimacy he could no longer allow himself.  His will was fragile and it would be so easy to falter.

“Don’t do that to me,” she pleaded, her voice cracking, “Don’t you even dare.  I came here to have an honest conversation with you, and I do not need this fucking facade, Solas.”

“How can I help,” he asked, his voice still  distant.  His heart plummeted into his stomach as she looked at him with utter disbelief.  

“Help,” she retorted with a bitter laugh, “You think I’m here for advice? Really?”

“If you do not wish for my assistance in preparing for your battle with Corypheus, then I am -”

“No need to finish that sentence,” she interrupted, “If you can’t drop this act - because I know its an act- and talk to me about what happened, and why it happened, then we are done here.”

She turned abruptly to walk away.  

“Niamh, wait.”

Panic seized him at the thought of this being their last conversation, and he reflexively grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to him.  For a moment, they stood just feet apart, looking at each other.  Her gaze softened, the crease between her coppery brows fading, and Solas presumed she had seen it in his eyes, the anguish he felt.

“I promise you, I am not going to question your decision, not this time,” Niamh assured him, “I just need to know… I need to understand.”

“You will,”Solas answered, “In time.”  He knew it was a pathetic defense, but he could offer her nothing else.

“No, that’s not good enough,” she snapped, her voice elevating again, “You have some really weird views about the elves, views that match absolutely nothing I have ever been told, nothing I have ever read about anywhere ever.”

“This knowledge is something that one can only acquire from journeying deep into the Fade,” he explained, “It is not something that - “

“Yes, yes.  I know,” she said sarcastically, gesturing emphatically with her hands, “These wonderful spirits of the Fade just flocked to you to bestow upon you boundless knowledge of a people that you do not consider yourself to have anything in common with.  Whether that is a lie, the truth, or some bastardized form of the truth, I was able to accept it.  It at least made sense.”

Solas watched intently as Niamh paced about in front of him while she spoke, appearing to become increasingly agitated as the conversation progressed.  Holes in his story that had once been small were widening, rapidly.  She would figure him out if she had not already.  He did not know whether to be relieved or terrified.

“You know what doesn’t make sense,” She asked rhetorically as she stopped pacing and stood directly in front of him, “How you, the man who refuses to associate with elves as a whole, seems to have some unspoken kinship with an ancient sentinel who is quite possibly thousands and thousands of years old.  Did the Fade do that to?”

“I empathized with Abelas,” Solas stated.  It was the truth, even if it was flimsy.

“Are you sure about that,” Niamh asked irreverently, “Because, I think everything confusing about you would be much better explained if you happened to be some kind of ancient being yourself.”

Her eyes locked directly with his, piercing through him entirely.  He blinked a few times and looked away.  He wanted to say something, to tell her that she was right and offer her an explanation for why he had been subversive.  Yet, he could not find the words.

“You don’t have to say anything.  I know that you won’t, anyway,” she said matter-of-factly, “But I sincerely hope that I’m right.  Everything is a lot easier to understand and forgive if that’s the case. It’s better to think you’re out of touch than an asshole who thinks he is better than everyone else.”

Again, he did not speak, but he did allow his gaze to meet hers again.  She smiled and shook her head.

“If I was wrong, you would be arguing with me,” she said with a laugh, even as a tear rolled down her cheek, “You love telling me when I’m wrong.”

“Vhenan,” he faltered, impressed by her intuition and touched by her emotion.  He reached out and wiped the tear away.  

“Goodbye, Solas,” she said solemnly.  She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his cheek, before turning and slowly leaving the room.  She did not glance back at him, not even once.

Tears burned in his own eyes as they started to fall freely.  He doubted that he would see her again before the battle with Corypheus, and whether she survived the encounter or not, he would not be present when she returned.  Once he regained possession of his foci, his duty would call him elsewhere.  Heartache was a complication that he had not anticipated.  He had never imagined that he could love someone from this world as he loved Niamh Lavellan.  He had misjudged her.  Perhaps he had misjudged everyone.  

Alas, it was too late to turn back now, with his plan already in motion.  

He returned to his desk, sat down at his chair, and pulled out his drawing.  He smiled as he traced the lines with his fingertips..  He opened one of the drawers on his desk, removing a decently sized bundle of parchment tied together with twine.  Pulling the knot loose revealed several other sketches of his love that he had done in the past year.  He placed the newest piece on top,  tied the twine as it had been before, and returned the bundle to the drawer.

On a blank piece of parchment, he wrote:

_You were right, although I wish that were not so._

_You changed everything._

_Ir abelas._

He tossed it in the drawer along with his drawings of her.  Perhaps she would see them when she returned.


End file.
